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Orders
Orders is a short story written by and winning entry to 's Writing Contest. Story Chapter 1 The sky glowed with a brilliant orange, and the huge rocks of Slaxar Nui were vermilion. The Matoran houses were also in vermilion, for they were built out of the rocks. However, to Turaga Dazix, he had but one color to see: blood red. A Dark Hunter known as “Bloodhound” had been reportedly murdered in a Slaxar Nui suburb. Most of the reports said that the local Matoran had killed him, and if those reports ever reached The Shadowed One’s ears, it could mean the destruction of Slaxar Nui. So, Dazix decided to personally deal with the incident. The white-cloaked Turaga walked through the suburb streets. Few Matoran walked the streets, and even fewer recognized him. Eventually he found the scene of the crime—tied off with long yellow cords. Dazix looked around him for someone who would allow him in but, seeing no one, he eventually pushed at the cords with his staff and slipped underneath. The cords enclosed an area of four Matoran houses arranged in a square, all built upon the red rocks. Two of the houses sported some attempts and painting. As Dazix walked towards the intersection between the four houses, he saw two small figures on the road to his left, standing over a body. This must be it. "Good Afternoon", the aged Turaga rasped. The two figures turned around, and nodded to him. One of the figures was clad in red and orange armor, adorned with a golden badge, and a powerless orange Ruru. This was Cauro, the Ta-Matoran chief of police. The other figure wore a white jacket over black armor, and his face bore a powerless Mask of Rahi Control. Although the two had not yet met, Dazix understood him to be Natrin, Slaxar Nui's leading forensic scientist—which wasn't saying much. "Any results yet?" Dazix continued. "We still don't know who the attacker could be," the Onu-Matoran replied. "But I have found his method of attack The Onu-Matoran pointed to the body of the victim. He was clad in dark red and gunmetal armor, tough but sleek. Underneath the armor in some places was Rahi fur, originally a light gray, now spotted with blood. The creature's eyes, once a fiery red, had turned black. But most notably was his chest. On it was a circular wound mark, from which stretched scars covered in blood. And the wound mark was glowing blue. "This seems like the most obvious wound ever." The Onu-Matoran said, when receiving no reply from Dazix. "Yes," the Turaga said, "Except that it was not the cause of his death." The two Matoran looked at the Turaga, confused. "Bloodhound's distinguishing mark was the lightning wound on his chest," Dazix said. He received it during a battle with one Jethryn, an assassin of some sort that I've heard a lot about. Since then, "Bloodhound" has been trying to hunt down and kill Jethryn." "Where did you learn about that?" Natrin replied. "Dark Hunter Online," Dazix said sarcastically. "The number one place for all your Dark Hunter needs." Cauro spoke up next. "This could be our man here. Jethryn would have had a reason to kill Bloodhound, as a result of their vendetta. And, if he knew about his injury, he might have been able to exploit it -- as you can see, the mark still glows, meaning it could have been targeted recently." "And also", said Natrin, "Look here." He was squatting over the lifeless Dark Hunter's arm. In the creature's claw was a shredded piece of black fabric. "Yes..." The aged Turaga said. "That matches Jethryn as well. I believe we've figured out our man." ---- Neither the Turaga nor the Matoran noticed the figure watching them. Everything was going according to plan. He was hiding in one of the four houses that had been closed off. Although comfortable for a family of Matoran, he felt like a giant in the house, as his Vortixx form—although certainly not the tallest of his race—made him at least three times larger than the house's occupants. He had already broken the second floor severely. He had broken through the roof as well, but he had done it cleanly with his knife—a hole large enough to throw his former "assistant" out onto the street from. All according to plan. The Dark Hunter's mission had been twofold. First, to cause a disturbance without getting himself noticed. He had decided to kill two Gukko with one stone by asking for an expendable Dark Hunter to go with him—and got "Bloodhound". Upon arrival in Slaxar Nui, they had lodged in an abandoned Matoran house. There the Vortixx had swiftly killed his partner with a carefully used electric grenade, and thrown him out the hole in the roof. His throwing arm had worked well, and he hadn't made any serious damage to the roof. All according to plan. His second goal was to get one or more officials of the city to check out the disturbance. He now had two in his hands—the police chief and, more importantly, the Turaga of Slaxar Nui. All according to plan. While keeping an eye on the Turaga through the window—he was fairly certain none of the three would look at him until it was too late—he slipped a canister into the barrel of his rifle. Originally designed in Xia as a harpoon launcher, he had modified his weapon into a multi-purpose sniper rifle, assault rifle, and grenade launcher. It was silent, and left no visible trace of its shot, making it difficult to see who had shot it and from where. After loading his specialized bullet, he cocked the gun, stepped back, and rested the barrel on the windowpane. He slowly slid it through the open-air window, and took aim at a spot in between his three victims. He didn't intend to seriously injure any of them—just to let his sleeping gas grenade do its work. He pulled the trigger, launching the grenade toward its target. He could see it explode into a cloud of white gas. When it cleared, he saw the three targets, all slumped over the body they were so fervently analyzing. All according to plan. Chapter 2 Dazix awoke in a small room. It was barely two bio long on each side, but four bio tall, and was constructed of hard grey bricks. He was laying on a cot protruding from the wall, and next to him was a small port for recharging. Above his head he could see another cot. Dazix gathered up the strength to get out of the cot. He could see in front of him the figures of Natrin and Cauro, looking out through a barred doorway. On the other side Dazix could see another brick wall, as well as a tall figure he couldn't recognize. The dim bulb in the cell spread little light on the unknown person, but from what could be made out, he was at least three times taller than the Turaga, and thin. He was leaning against the wall, and had a large gun strapped to his back. His right hand was resting against the wall, while he was intently watching something in his left hand. Noticing that the Turaga was awake, Cauro turned to him, a look of frustration showing through his Ruru. "Dazix! Oh, you're awake. Can you talk some sense into this guy?" "What did he do to you?" The Turaga inquired. "He took my communicator," the Ta-Matoran continued, pointing to the figure, "and he's not giving it back!" "Just how stupid are you?" The stranger said, looking into the cell. "You would know how this goes, Mister-Chief-Of-Police. Do you let your prisoners keep their communicators just because they asked? No, you don't, otherwise they call down a mass horde to break them out and destroy everything in sight, while they're at it." "The least you could do is not look into my personal business!" Cauro retorted. "The signature of a liar," The jailer responded, "is that he denies anything of importance when it's in the grasp of someone else. Besides, you're pretty much off the map, and The Shadowed One might like to know about it about your portion of the world. "The Shadowed One," Dazix repeated. "So you're a Dark Hunter?" "Yes," the figure said, his eyes back on the communicator. "Hired by whom?" Natrin asked. The jailer looked up from the communicator into Natrin's eyes. It was here that Dazix saw that whoever the strange person was didn't wear a Kanohi, but had a reptilian face, which at present was twisted into an expression of disgust and disappointment. '' A Vortixx. '' "You obviously don't know a lot about Dark Hunters," he said at last. "None of our employers are required to disclose their names or reasons -- only their money." "And he wanted us to come here -- wherever here is -- instead of wherever his base is. So, he's trying to remain anonymous." The Ta-Matoran spoke up again, some calm returning to his voice. "Exactly." The Vortixx replied, as his eyes returned to the communicator. Chapter 3 It was a dark night on the waters of the old Dark Hunter base. Even though the light of day had already passed, the sky glowed a ghostly orange, silhouetting all beneath it. The only sound could be heard was the flowing of the river the base was built upon. The silence was then broken by a loud bump, and the deep-voiced exclamations of someone. "Careful!" a voice followed, this one calmer, but his voice would sound strangely unnerving—if there was anyone listening who cared about his accent. "Well thanks for the heads up", said the exclaimer. "Not for you," the other whispered. "Be careful with the prisoners. We don't want them winding up in Metru Nui harmed." The two trudged on in silence, until they reached the end of the wooden pier. The lanterns made them somewhat distinguishable. One of the individuals was very tall, and had four arms, two with the same proportion to his torso as a Toa's as well as two small arms without elbows. The second figure, the one who had stubbed his foot, was much shorter and stockier, with broad shoulders. He was carrying two rectangular crates, one in each arm. He looked around the pier's end, finding a small raft moored to the pier. He stepped towards it, and with a grunt pushed the two crates off his shoulders on to the raft. They hit with a "THUD!", causing the raft to waver. "You blundering fool!" The taller one screamed. "Did you forget what's in those crates you almost DESTROYED?" "Uhhh... yeah." The shorter one said. Back on his homeland, his people were used for their brawn, not their brains. "There are Matoran inside those crates! They shouldn't be harmed... it they returned injured, it might go badly for us, especially since the guard told them who we are..." A third individual made his way toward the raft now. He was a massive creature, head and shoulders over the four-armed being. In contrast to his Matoran-like proportions was his face, which was shaped like a Visorak's, with two burning red eyes. He carried only one crate—the one which carried the most important cargo. He could be trusted to have a slightly more delicate touch—as long as he didn't get angry. "Why couldn't we have just killed them?" He said, in his usual harsh tone, as he slowly lowered the crate off his back and on to the raft. "Because," said the four-armed creature, "Then we would have Turaga blood on our hands... and that would go badly with us as well." With that said, he took a sword from a scabbard on his back, and with a downward thrust severed the rope that held the raft up next to the pier. The raft began to drift away, down the silver river of liquid protodermis. As the three watched the raft, they heard whistle through the air—followed by an explosion, somewhere near them. They felt a wave of heat and moisture cross over them—and then they lost consciousness. Chapter 4 Just as Dazix was getting used to waking up in the dimly lit, cold Dark Hunter prison, he found himself waking up on top of a wooden crate, staring at the blue sky. There was a sun in this sky, glowing white above him. He could feel a strong wind coming from his left. As he got up, he saw the familiar red rocks of Slaxar Nui around him. Cauro and Natrin were also laid on two other crates, both to his right. The reason for his suddenly being returned here was unclear, but since he was here, it wouldn't help much just to lay here thinking. He rolled himself off the top of the crate, walking over to Cauro next to him. "Cauro?" he inquired. "I'm here... Dazix," he said sleepily. "Do you know what happened?" The Turaga continued. The Ta-Matoran looked around him. Evidently he had not noticed where he was. Shortly he let out the words "No... I don't." Dazix moved past the confused police chief over to Natrin. He asked the same question, and got the same answer. The Turaga resolved that he needed to figure out this mystery on his own. So, he grabbed a nearby stick and, using it as a walking stick, since he could find his normal lightstaff, set out for the village. As he went, he heard Cauro exclaim, "My communicator! It's gone!" To his surprise, Dazix found that no one saw that he had been gone. In fact, when he asked a Po-Matoran what had happened in his absence, the only response he got was, "In ten minutes, nothing much." The elderly Turaga then set out for the Catacombs, the hidden fortress of Slaxar Nui where he held office. Though less than a Kio away from the place where he was, the walk there was slow and tiring. He finally reached one of the Catacombs' hidden gateways, hidden in a cleft of the rocks. Then he tripped. A Le-Matoran in a Kualsi ran over to the prostrate Turaga, giving him his hand to straighten himself by. He was one of many Matoran that lived in the catacombs, awaiting the day that their destiny as Toa would come. "Are you fine-okay?" He asked. "I've been through worse," The Turaga muttered. The Le-Matoran insisted on taking Dazix to his residence in one of the Catacombs' Matoran transports. Although he didn't like the feeling of relying on someone else for help, the Turaga eventually complied. It was only five minutes from the entranceway of the Catacombs to Dazix's own chambers. After angrily telling the Le-Matoran to leave when he tried to help him through the door, Dazix stepped in, prepared to sit back and take a rest. However, there was a figure sitting there in his favorite chair. He was wearing a white Pakari, just like Dazix. And he was covered with a white cloak, just like Dazix. He even carried a lightstaff, like Dazix ''would have. '' ''Anyone would have thought it was Dazix. '' The true Turaga gave a gasp, and attempted to speak, but he never got the chance. The figure in the chair, upon seeing him, stood up, and pointed his lightstaff at him. Then he charged. Dazix had no weapon with which to defend himself, but as a Toa he did learn something about evasion. So, with a grunt, he sidestepped the imposter and tripped him. But he was soon back up on his feet and, with a mighty WHACK, rapped Dazix on his shoulder. The Turaga fell over. The imposter stood over him, drawing a knife from his cloak. He prepared to drive the knife into his enemy’s heartlight. But he never got the chance, because just then his own heartlight was transfixed by a harpoon. He dropped the knife and slumped over, to the left of his would-be victim. Dazix could hardly believe his own luck, that it would happen at just that moment. “It wasn’t luck, you know. I could have shot him long before that… I just felt no need to." Dazix grabbed the late imposter’s lightstaff, which had landed within reach as its wielder toppled over. He used it to support himself up, and then looked at his rescuer. He was three times taller than Dazix himself. His skin was dark green, covered in some places by silver armor. He had two clawed hands, with both grasped a large gun of sorts, with smoke coming out of the barrel. However, it was by his reptilian head that he recognized— “The Dark Hunter Jailer?” “In person”, the figure replied. “But- why are you here?” The Turaga stuttered. “I was hired to keep you prisoner while some other guy took your place,” he said, gesturing to the dead body. “No one said I couldn’t do anything after that happened, and since you seemed like a rather nice fellow, I thought you should stay alive.” “But – your orders –“ “Fullfilled,” the Vortixx responded. “I could care less about what whoever the employer was wanted, which probably wasn’t anything very nice either. I got paid to be a guard, and a guard I was.” “I’ll never forget this,” Dazix said, reaching a hand to shake with his rescuer. “What is your name?” “Save the romance talk for another person,” the Vortixx said, reaching down and shaking the elder’s hand. “And it would suit me better for no one to know who actually destroyed the plan.” “But who are you?” Dazix inquired. “A friend,” the figure replied, as he stepped out through a hole in the back wall of the hut – which he had made in order to get into the room – and disappeared. Dazix crawled back on his bed and got some well-earned sleep, knowing that the next day he would sort out whatever troubles the imposter had caused in his absence. As it turned out, some of those troubles involved an Order of Mata Nui agent and an Igleep, who he was scheduled to meet the following day… Characters *Turaga Dazix *Kerath/"Mahrine" *Natrin *Cauro *Bloodhound (deceased, body only) *Drakaal (cameo) *Jethryn (mentioned) *An unnamed member of Krekka's Species *An unnamed member of Brutaka’s Species *An unnamed villain who arranged for Dazix’s kidnapping (mentioned) *An unnamed villain who pretended to be Dazix *An unnamed Le-Matoran Trivia *The Vortixx guard in the story is actually ‘’Kerath’’, one of Stormjay’s oldest BIONICLE characters. In addition, his general secrecy and loose following of orders are inspired by Stormjay himself. *The Dead Dark Hunter in Chapter 1, “Bloodhound”, is a reference to a wolf-themed Dark Hunter that Stormjay never finished. *Stormjay’s selfMOC, Jethryn, is referenced in Chapter 1. *In addition, the Dark Hunter Drakaal makes a cameo in Chapter 3.